Treacherous Stars and Flying Phoenixs
by MarySueDevourer
Summary: She's a grounder in the world of G1, and an innocent Autobot through-and-through. But when a Decepticon is banished and joins their ranks, she faces decisions that could hurt not only her, but also those around her, and the Earth itself. Starscream/OC
1. Prologue

**Title: Treacherous Stars and Flying Phoenixs**

**Type: Romance**

**Rating: T, though rating may move up either on request or due to certain events in the story.**

**Summary: Phoenix. A young grounder in the world of G1, and an innocent Autobot through-and-through. But when a Decepticon is banished and joins their ranks, she faces decisions that could hurt not only her, but also those around her, and the Earth itself. There is a clear line between love, loyalty, and reputation, and Phoenix is about to test those lines like they've never been before. Starscream/OC.**

**Characters: Starscream, Megatron, Optimus Prime, Jazz, Bumblebee, Sideswipe**

**I do not own Transformers, only my OCs Phoenix, Dragonia, Wolfbane and Cyclone.**

* * *

Megatron stood behind the wall of glass, hands clasped behind his back and gazing out at the vast ocean. The sea decorated the room in colours of blue, green and purple, casting a serene glow over the much-used rec room. A dark shadow would fall on the room as the occasional large sea animal passed by, only to be returned to it's original state immediately as if nothing has happened. It would almost seem calming if it weren't for the multitude of squishy creatures that swam past, occasionally collecting themselves to inspect the strange ship before scattering again. They were much too similar to the humans for Megatrons liking. Every single squishy creature, should his will be adhered, would be killed. They were disgusting, their customs and traditions even more so.

The hissing of a door behind him warned the silver tyrant of a certain Seeker's approach, but he did not react. Their hands were empty apart from a datapad sitting in one hand, gripping it so tightly it was a miracle it hadn't crumbled yet. He knew he wouldn't have to say anything to get Starscream started on his rant, and by the sound of his footsteps he was especially pissed off. This would be fun. In 3... 2... 1...

"What are you playing at, Megatron!" the Seeker shrieked, stopping just out of reaching distance in case the tyrant decided to punish him for his outburst.

The tyrant merely turned his head slightly to the side, watching his Second-in-Command out of the corner of his optics. A smirk ghosted over his features for a second, but it was gone before one could suspect. One could almost say Megatron purposely did this now. That he purposely wound the Seeker up, if only to gain amusement from his obsessive ranting and feel some amount of satisfaction at his loss of control. The more Megatron did it, the easier it became, and Starscream's hissyfits were almost a common occurence nowadays.

"Are you honestly so lacking in a processor that you'd even think to send me on this... this suicide mission!"

"Are you quite finished?"

_"NO!_ I am your _Second-in-Command,_ in case you have forgotten! You cannot do this to me!"

"Quite the contrary, Starscream. I am leader, therefore I may do as I please."

Megatron's tone left no room for argument, and he now turned around to face the Seeker front-on. Starscream closed his mouth with an undignified 'hmph,' refusing to meet Megatron's gaze. He knew firsthand what that gaze could do to a mech, and was not in the mood for the silver tyrant's games. He couldn't _believe_ this! Megatron was sending he, Starscream, his most valuable warrior, out to be Autoscum-food! He was not expendable! He was the pompous scrap-heap's best warrior, yet he chucked him away like he was nothing more than a mindless drone! It was outrageous! Unthinkable! Positively _inconceivable!_ that the Decepticon's _best_ soldier was being tossed away like nothing but a peice of trash! And it was yet _another_ reason why he should be leading and not this rusty bucket-head.

"I refuse." Starscream stated bluntly, giving Megatron a blunt look.

He was _not_ doing this. He was _not_ going to take on such an utterly pointless mission, which had a very low chance of succeeding anyway! If his ever so _glorious_ leader was so eager on the idea, then why didn't he send somebody expendable like Dirge! Or Shockwave. Yes... Shockwave would be good... or even that annoying telepath... When Starscream became leader, he'd make those two suffer. He could see all the humiliations now, and the overwhelming sense of power that they brought with them. He'd show those two slag-suckers for being so loyal to Megamoron! Someday, they'd be begging him for mercy... just like Megatron would be begging him for his life.

"You seem to misunderstand me, Starscream," Megatron said coldly, optics narrowing as he glared down at his subordiante, "I was not giving you a choice-"

_"I REFUSE!"_ Starscream screeched, and before he could even consider the consequences of his actions he threw the datapad that he had been holding at Megatron.

Megatron easily caught it, red optics flashing as he slowly drew his gaze away from the datapad and towards the red Seeker. His optics were dangerously calm, and his lips drawn in a tight smile. His faceplate had transformed from his usual cruel sneer into a calm mask of serenity, a sure sign that he was _not_ pleased. He could stand a little impudence, but interupting him? Starscream of all mechs, should know better than this.

And by Primus did he ever.

The red Seeker whirled away, attempting a quick dash for the exit. Megatron tossed the datapad away and, with a feral snarl, lunged for Starscream, catching him by the wing and throwing him to the ground. Starscream let out an indiginant shriek as his wing was crushed underneath Megatron's foot, leaving a large dent that would take some explaining later. In desperation, he fired a shot at Megatron from his nullray, catching him in the side of his faceplate. If anything, though, he merely pissed him off.

Megatron reached down, foot still on his wing and pinning him to the ground, and ripped off the Second-in-Command's nullray. Starscream's screams could be heard throughout the entire base, a high-pitched screech that made pretty much anyone cringe. Starscream watched in agony as his prized weapon was so carelessly thrown to the other side of the room, bouncing off the far wall and landing on the floor with a _clang._ Starscream quickly followed, being picked up by the throat and slammed into the wall almost instantly after.

The smaller mech slid down the wall, crumbling to the floor and curling into a defensive ball. Unfortunately for him, it did little to save him from Megatron's wrath. Blow after blow landed on his lithe form, until his body was littered with various dents and leaking Energon from cracks in his armour, his wings ruined and weapons discarded like scrapmetal.

A dark shadow fell, Megatron standing over his quivering Seeker. He visably flinched as the Decepticon Leader bent down, roughly picking him up by arm (or what he had left of it) and dangling him in the air. Starscream couldn't find the strength, or defiance, to meet Megatron's gloating gaze, optics cast towards the ground in what would appear to be defeat.

"Excellent," Megatron remarked, a sneer playing over his features, "Get going. Your mission starts immediately."

* * *

**Feel free to tell me what you think- whether negative or otherwise. Flamers? Well, as long as you speak sense and don't run your mouth off, it's fine. If you're going to complain about my story, please, at least tell me why. I enjoy people pointing out the flaws as much as I love feedback. Suggestions are very much welcome, but I can't use everyone's ideas, sadly. Still, if you can give me something to work with, I'll most likely find some way to put it into the story.**

**Confused over the story? Well, it's the prologue, so it was sort of the point, although I am well aware I didn't give you much indication as to exactly whats going on. All shall be revealed in chapters to come. And honselty? Grammar, volcabulary, spelling mistakes etc? Please point them out. I didn't check this story over properly before I posted it.**


	2. Cruel and Unusual Punishment

**Chapter 1: **Cruel and Unusual Punishment.

The femme sat in the small room, perched on the edge of her small berth with her elbows resting on her small knees, cradling her head in her hands and staring into space. Bored didn't even begin to cover how she was feeling right now. With the squishies gone, and the Autobots away on the battlefield kicking some 'Con aft, life in the _Ark_ was... uneventful, at best. Had anyone ever died of boredom? Because she had a feeling that, if she had to spend another breem as she was, she was about to become one of the first. And she wasn't just being melodramatic either- sitting around doing nothing was _torture._ Did 'cruel and unusual punishment' mean _nothing_ to them?

She shifted uneasily on her berth, letting out an over-exaggerated sigh and scanning her almost-bare quarters for something- _anything-_ to pass the time. All she found was an empty desk pushed up against the wall in the corner, a shelf littered with pictures and datapads, and some posters she'd recently plastered on the wall. Out of them all, the only thing that had a chance of holding her attention would be the shelf that held numerous records and entries about her life. That could prove interesting, for a limited amount of time, but could she bothered? The answer came almost instantly.

_No._

So she remained seated where she was, idly tapping her pedes against the berth in a random tune, reflecting on how depressing the whole situation was. Not for the first time she wished Prime would give her more interesting things to do whilst they were away- like some of Jazz's music. Claiming that the human sounds and rhythms would be a bad influence on the young femme was hardly a valid excuse. Sometimes it was like the Autobots just wanted to torture her.

Cruel and unusual punishment. That was what it was.

_Primus,_ she groaned, burying her faceplate in the palm of her hands, _Is there _**_nothing_**_ in this place that is even _**_remotely_**_ exciting?_

What was the point of all that hard training, all those lessons on how to incapacitate a Decepticon and ensure they wouldn't be returning to the battlefield anytime soon, when she wasn't even allowed to put these things into practice? What was the point of training relentlessly, day and night, when all she ever got was: "You're too little Phoenix," "Wait 'til you're older, Phoenix," "Not yet, Phoenix." It was infuriating! She had every right to be on that battlefield as them, and they knew it. Those Decepticon punks had nothing on her and all she needed was the opportunity to prove it.

As if answering her call, a screeching wail suddenly reverberated throughout the base, the familiar voice of Teletran-1 activating almost immediately afterwards:

_"Intruder alert. Intruder alert. Intruder alert."_

It took the femme no more than half an astrosecond to be out of that room and streaking down the hall, the clanging of her pedes hitting the metal floor hard drowned out by the blaring siren. It was odd not meeting other Autobots on the way, as usually the alarm went off when the others were around. But she quickly pushed the observation to the back of her mind. They were all out fighting- it was only her and the _Ark _as far as she was concerned. She burst into the control room, lunging for the command panel and hitting the voice command button.

"Teletran-1, report," she ordered, mimicking the way she'd seen the older 'bots do it.

There was a brief pause, as if Teletran-1 detected her lack of clearance and the possibility of Prime being none-too-pleased with the result, but eventually it intoned, "Intruder detected 1 mile and 0.4 kilometers from current location, due East."

As it talked, a map flashed on the screen, zeroing in on the location and highlighting it in red. At the same time, the coordinates were listed at the bottom right-hand side of the screen, and Phoenix quickly recorded them into her data banks. Without a second thought, she dashed out of the room and...ran straight into a pair of locked doors. Cursing colorfully, she punched the code into the control panel to unlock the doors, but they didn't budge. Not even a sharp kick to them, one that did Phoenix more damage than the doors, could encourage them to open.

"Access: Unauthorized," Teletran-1 chimed, making Phoenix hiss.

"Let me out!" she shrieked, followed by another kick to the doors.

Again, there was no visible effect, earning only another frustrated cry.

After affirming that Teletran-1 was not going to willingly let her leave, and that punching and kicking the doors was getting her nowhere, Phoenix ceased her relentless assault to take a moment to gather her thoughts, carefully running over the basics first. She was a femme. Femme's weren't always physically strong or capable, but their weapons... well, their weapons could do a bit of damage when needed. Sure, not as much as those giant cannons all the mechs lugged around, but charged at full power they were still useful nonetheless. None of her gender would survive otherwise.

Taking this into account, Phoenix leveled her weapon with the doors, blue optics narrowed to slits as she concentrated all her attention on her weapon and it's aim. A soft hum filled the air as it charged, beginning to glow a menacing red as energy poured into it, gradually adding to the amount of power it would pack once fired. Eventually, after what felt like vorns (but was really only a matter of astroseconds), the laser was primed to fire- and the femme wasted no time in releasing that energy onto the door.

The loud explosion that followed set off more alarms, but she stubbornly ignored them and the pieces of rubble bouncing off her armour, departing into the hallway at a brisk pace and hurriedly making her way out of the base. Teletran-1 wouldn't let her go so easily, the locked doors were firm proof of that, and either it was going to go into a state of lockdown (trapping her inside until the Autobots arrived) or it had already informed Optimus Prime and the others what was going on- possibly both. Either way, time was of the essence, and she transformed into her Alt Mode to make a speedier exit.

Thankfully (or, more likely, suspiciously) enough, she made it out of the _Ark_ without incident, streaking through the desert and kicking up a cloud of dust behind her. Whilst she drove, she pulled up the co-ordinates to her destination, pushing her engines faster so that she could reach it in time. Teletran-1 may not have mentioned anything about what direction this 'intruder' was heading in, but just because they might have been taking a small rest when it picked up on them didn't mean they weren't mobile. Phoenix would have to get there quickly if she wanted to catch the offender.

/Phoenix.../ a disapproving voice sounded over her comm. link, making the femme instinctively flinch.

She tried to ignore him, but when someone was talking to you over a comm. link, it wasn't something you could simply not listen to.

/I know you can hear me, Phoenix,/ Prime repeated firmly, /Return to base, _now./_

On normal circumstances, Phoenix would feel very much obliged to obey him. There was no escaping how a simple disapproving look from Prime could cause such a strong flash of guilt through one's systems that you had little choice but to do as you were told, but that was when they were faceplate-to-faceplate. Over a comm. link, however... well, things were a touch less personal, and Phoenix had no qualms about what she did next.

/Chhh... Sorry- Prime- Can't- Hear- Chhhhhh... Breaking-chh-up...Ch-/

A disapproving 'humph' answered her, and it was no surprise that her false static hadn't fooled him in the slightest. Regardless, he didn't press her, and the link was ended. This brought both a great sense of relief and worry: relief because she didn't have to deal with her embarrassing failures at lying; worry because Prime would never let her go so easily if there was any sort of danger to her, and that could only mean one thing- they were close to intercepting her. Accelerating to speeds that would've made Sunstreaker proud, she soared through the desert, more determined than ever to complete her objective. The Autobots would not catch her. Her one chance at proving herself worthy- the _only_ chance she'd ever received- was not going to be wasted.

* * *

A soft breeze blew across the desert sands, getting even more crap stuck under the edges of the small femme's armour. She grumbled and cursed under her breath, shifting uneasily at the uncomfortable feeling of dirt, sand and grit grinding against inner wires, but reluctantly continued to trudge on through the barren landscape. This was definitely not how she pictured her adventure being. She was supposed to track down the intruder, kick his aft from here to Kingdom Come, and then drag his sorry butt back to the _Ark_ where she would become a self-proclaimed war hero! Where was the action? Where was the excitement? This was nothing like what the other Autobots described when _they_ got to go out and fight the Decepticons.

And that was another point- where the hell was this Decepticon? After reaching her destination point, all she'd found was a measly trail of bluish-blackish Energon that she'd been following for what felt like vorns. The only interesting thing that had occurred since then was the occasional swerve of the Energon trail, as if the owner had lost their balance. Phoenix took this as very good news. Firstly, because that meant that they would be injured and easy to take down. Secondly, because then they'd be moving at a slower pace, which meant it couldn't be _that_ much farther now.

Her assumptions proved correct as the Energon gradually became brighter in colour, an obvious signal that it was getting fresher. She was gaining on them. She found herself being lead into what resembled a canyon of sorts, with high cliff faces and numerous rock formations blocking her path. She hesitated for a split second when she found a puddle of Energon, glancing around the area curiously (or was it cautiously?) before she deemed it OK to move on.

It wasn't too much further until Phoenix found herself taking another pause, this time because of a sudden veer off to the right that the Energon trail made. She raised an optic ridge skeptically, wondering if this Decepticon was just over-energized, when something hard hit her on the back of the head.

_CLANG!_

She let out a shriek of surprise as she was knocked face-first into the ground, a pede landing heavily on the middle of her back and keeping her pinned to her ground. Her processor raced and her systems were overcome with panic, all her recent training abandoning her in her time of need. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen! She attempted thrashing, letting out another scared shriek as she found herself quickly running out of options and certain deactivation drawing closer with each astrosecond.

She eventually ceased her fruitless attempts at freedom, reduced to quivering instead. Every possible escape plan she could dream up rushed by in a flash- too fast for her to be able to completely come to terms with them, but slow enough that she could _almost_ get the jist of them. Each idea was even more ridiculous than the last, and she found that all she could hope for was a quick end. She'd heard plenty of tales of Autobots being tortured in various ways, none of them ending well for the Autobot in question, and she didn't want to die knowing she'd just be another example for young bots of what-not-to-do when chasing a Decepticon.

"Why were you following me?" a voice demanded from above her.

It was undoubtedly a male voice, but there was something off about it. It was raspy and somewhat higher-pitched than most mechs, though this knowledge did nothing to help Phoenix's frayed nerves. He sounded angry. Like, really angry. As in 'you're-lucky-you're-even-still-alive' angry. Phoenix? She was just scared, and praying to Primus or whatever higher being was up there that she would make it out of this ordeal alive. Though, as much as she hated to admit it, the possibility of her avoiding deactivation was looking increasingly unlikely as the astroseconds ticked by.

"Please..." she whispered weakly, Energon tears beginning to leak out of the corner of her optics.

"Please _what?"_ the Decepticon snapped with an impatient growl.

"Please... don't kill me..."

"And what gave you the impression I was going to 'kill' you."

Of course. He was right. Decepticons wouldn't just randomly murder a possible hostage, especially one that just happened to be wandering all alone through the desert. They'd probably rip off her limbs first so that she couldn't fight back, then transport her back to their base for interrogation. Well, if you called excessive torture 'interrogation,' that was. After that, they'd probably dump her lifeless shell back in front of the _Ark_ to rub it in the faceplate of Optimus Prime. Would anyone be sad to see her dead? Or, more importantly, was anyone coming to her aid? At this very moment?

She whimpered, burying her faceplate shamefully in the dirt. She'd been so foolish to think she could do this on her own. She should've known it wouldn't have been as easy as landing a couple of well-placed punches and random laser fire to take down a Decepticon. They were twice her size, speed, strength and power- this wasn't just another training practice with Jazz or the twins, or even with Prowl on the odd occasion. It was the real thing, and she had clearly failed. Miserably. She wasn't designed for war... not like her father...

There was a contemptuous snort above her, the pede digging into the middle of her back with more force, and the femme let out a muffled squeak of pain.

"You haven't answered my question, insect," he spat.

She hoped Optimus hadn't just left her to her own demise... Maybe the reason he hadn't bothered convincing her to return was because he thought it had just been some malfunction with Teletran-1? Was Phoenix, the small, young femme of the Autobots, all on her own?

"I-I-"

She _what?_ Why was she here, tracking down a potentially _dangerous_ Decepticon against the advice of her older and so-much-more experienced superiors? There was the truth- that she'd been foolish enough to believe she could take the Decepticon down just to claim bragging rights amongst the Autobots- or there was a slight variation of the truth- that she'd just been trying to do what she thought was best for her faction. She chose the latter.

"I just th-thought... I was... h-helping..." she finally managed to gasp out.

The pede was finally removed from her back, but Phoenix very much doubted that was a good sign. She screwed her optics up tightly, her vents stalling in anticipation for the first blow, but instead:

"Up."

"...What?" she asked in disbelief, her optics blinking open.

"I said get up," the mech snapped, kicking her in the leg impatiently. "And don't even think about trying to attack me. A small femme like you could hardly even scratch my paint."

And didn't she believe it. He might have been exaggerating about her not being able to scratch his paint, but she didn't want to find out about whether or not he was a mech who liked to exaggerate every now and again. If she tried to attack him it could just make him angrier, and she didn't want to learn first-hand what a pissed off Decepticon could do. Especially a "small femme like her." She wouldn't stand a chance.

Slowly, she raised herself on to her hands and knees, and from there she managed to balance herself on her pedes. Her legs felt wobbly and ready to give way beneath her at any minute, but she quickly steeled herself, stubbornly wiping away the remains of her tears and taking in a deep breath to calm herself. She could do this. Slowly, carefully, she turned around to face her captor, unable to stop herself from biting her lip and staring at the ground meekly. In no rush to meet their optics, she raised her head, blue optics widening in obvious surprise.

_Is that...?_

_WHACK!_

**Reviews, again, are vey much appreciated. Compliments, tips, criticism... I'll even put up with flames as long as you make some good points in it. Thank you to my reviewers- _Forever Dreaming Grace, 9aza, Moonheart '.D wc, Mistress Megatron. _All of your reviews were extremely interesting and informative, and I greatly enjoyed reading each of them. **


	3. Deals and Promises

The Med. Bay was relatively empty considering there'd just been a battle, most mechs having suffered minor injuries and only requiring a quick repair the previous day. Megatron's forces hadn't lasted as long as usual, curiously enough, and many were putting that down to the obvious lack of his Air Commander- an issue that had sent the Seekers into a chaotic mess, and made the battle go very well indeed for the tireless Autobots. The skirmish against the Decepticons had gone so well, in fact, that Sunstreaker's fried wires were the only wounds Ratchet had to check up on that day. It would teach that twin for trying to hitch a ride on Skywarp's back, at least.

Closing the Files he'd discovered on his newest patient, Ratchet got up from his desk, stretched, and exited his office, off to find the golden Lambo.

* * *

When the femme came to, it was to a throbbing helm and an aching body. She sighed, her faceplate scrunched up in a grimace, her hand pressing deftly against her pounding head and mentally willing it to go away. There was nothing worse than a splitting processorache to wake one up. She activated her optics, gradually bringing them online as they adjusted to the brightness of them room, letting out an audible groan at the various feelings assaulting her systems. Something was niggling her at the back of her processor, but she couldn't place what. What was wrong? Why did she feel like she was missing something?

Struggling, she observed her surroundings through squinted optics, desperately trying to grab hold of that evasive memory that continuously slipped from her grasp. The place was well-lit, with organized benches and datapads neatly stacked in piles. Medical tools were arranged properly, though she did spy a wrench on the floor. She felt somewhat relieved to find that she was within her own Med. Bay, but... why? Had she had _another _training accident with Ironhide? That seemed likely, but she didn't remember even having a training practice with Ironhide (or anyone, for that matter) recently. Or was it a case of amnesia? Maybe somebody hit her head really, really hard...

She was startled by the sound of another's systems whirring, glancing sharply to her left to see a red and white mech comfortably positioned on the repair berth beside her own. She sucked in a sharp breath as she recognized him- sky blue hands placed comfortably behind his head, one leg bent so that his knee was pointing towards the ceiling, and the other leg resting on top of the first one- clumsily scrambling to her feet and aiming her weapon at his head.

Or she would've. If her weapon was still mounted on her arm. Blue optics widening, she quickly lowered her shaking arm and took in a long, deep breath to calm herself, trying to gain control of herself before she turned into a quivering wreck. She closed her optics tightly, counting to three like Ratchet had told her to in these type of situations, before hesitantly opening them to see if the Seeker was still there. Unfortunately, he was, and to make matters worse he was smirking at her in open amusement.

"Keep away from me, 'Con," she spat, taking a step back.

"Please. If I'd wanted you deactivated, you wouldn't be standing here at this very minute."

She opened her mouth to make a snappy retort, but nothing came to mind, shutting her mouth again quickly and settling for a dark glare. It wasn't that she doubted his words that irked her; it was the fact that she knew he was correct, and she couldn't make a logical argument against that. Not that it made her trust him any more than she should. Just because he hadn't killed her yet didn't mean he wouldn't.

"You hit me," she stated bluntly, optics narrowing in suspicion.

She could come to terms with the memory more clearly now, going over each little piece. She'd been following his Energon trail when he'd attacked her from behind, then when he'd finally let her up he'd knocked her out with a hard punch to her right temple. Oh, and then there was the part about how scared shitless she was. It was actually sort of embarrassing now that she was looking back on it. To make matters worse, the smug look on the Seeker's faceplate indicated he hadn't forgotten it in a hurry, either.

He shrugged. "You followed me."

She scowled at him (or, more specifically, his nonchalance about his actions), seating herself down on the edge of the repair berth but not fully relaxing. There was just something familiar about him, and it was getting unnerving. And it wasn't just because he'd slammed her in the head.

The door opened with a _hiss _then, Ratchet walking into the room with- surprise, surprise- a wrench in his hand and grumbling under his breath about the twins. Phoenix cast a glance over her shoulder; flinching at the disapproving look the medic gave her and quickly lying back down. She gritted her denta together when she heard the Seeker snickering across from her, and resisted the urge to flip him the bird whilst Ratchet wasn't looking.

"What's _he _doing here?" she asked Ratchet, nodding her head in the direction of the Decepticon.

Ratchet placed his wrench back down on his bench, not sparing the femme a glance as he began typing something into a datapad, saying to her whilst he did it:

"'He' saved your life, apparently."

Phoenix stared at him blankly for a few astroseconds, wondering if she'd heard him incorrectly. The revelation took a while to sink in.

"He... what?"

Ratchet sighed in exasperation, putting down the datapad and turning around to face his only two patients. This, he figured, was going to take a lot of explaining. Phoenix not only looked thoroughly confused, but also somewhat suspicious. She wasn't the only one. A lot of Autobots were currently doubting the true motives of Starscream's supposed 'rescue' of their young femme, and rumors of him being a spy were still circulating throughout the entire base. A natural reaction, Ratchet supposed, but they had good reason for keeping their wits about them.

"Saved you," Ratchet repeated with a shrug, though he shot Starscream a mistrustful look of his own. "We think, when you _disobeyed orders and left base," _he put emphasis on those words, giving her a cold, disapproving look as he said them, "that you had one of your 'sessions' in the middle of the desert and went into stasis. Starscream here," he nodded to the mech, "found you."

Phoenix was very much tempted to slap herself. Of course he looked familiar! He was Starscream, Megatron's Second-in-Command and Air Commander. How had she not recognized him? The colour scheme, the wings, that smirk... distinguishing features that should've made her recognize him pretty much immediately. It was almost as embarrassing as that time she mistook a rock for Optimus Prime.

And what was this slag about him saving her, anyway? She shot him an accusing look, but he merely gave her a smirk and mouthed, 'Sessions?' at her. Her faceplate almost immediately began to heat up at the mention of the glitch in her systems, quickly turning away to hide it. Why did she care what he thought anyway? He was a lowly Decepticon... and a _lying _one at that. That glitch had been repaired eons ago- why would it randomly resurface now? Surely Ratchet knew that. Surely he understood.

"Oh," she replied, optics narrowing and staring at her hands.

She wasn't going to deny it- not yet, anyway. She wanted answers first (and by Primus, was she going to get some), though she doubted she was going to get any with Ratchet hanging around. Instead, she sprawled out on her berth and pretended to stare into space, though out of the corner of her optics she was 'keeping an eye' on Starscream. He wasn't being so inconspicuous about watching her. He had fully rolled over onto his side by this time, resting the side of his helm on his fist and observing her with his infamous smirk. Phoenix exhaled slowly, gritting her denta together in an effort not to snap at him, and closed her optics. Control. She just needed some self-control.

"Are you hurting anywhere?" Ratchet asked, walking towards the femme.

_Yes._

"No," she replied shortly.

Ratchet made a displeased noise at the back of his throat, not at all convinced. The femme was a horrible liar. Regardless, he didn't press the matter, instead picking up a wrench he'd thrown a few cycles ago off the ground. If she wanted to be stubborn then that wasn't his problem- the possible pain and/or discomfort that followed could be a valuable lesson to the femme about the consequences of lying to a medic. Rather than fussing over her, he turned to Starscream instead; who visibly flinched at the sight of the wrench. Phoenix assumed, with amusement, that Starscream had most likely been on the receiving end of that wrench some time beforehand.

Ratchet couldn't help but feel slightly smug. Good. He was learning.

"Hold still," he ordered, stepping forward to examine the Decepticon's wounds.

Phoenix sat very still, remaining uncharacteristically quiet as she watched Ratchet check over his patient. Why, she wondered, were the Autobots helping him? Had he really been _that_ badly injured? Then again, on second thoughts, he _had_ had enough strength to tackle her to the ground _and_ knock her out (though, admittedly, that probably didn't take much)... were they only helping him because he 'saved' Phoenix? That couldn't be right; Prime wasn't _that _generous, particularly not to the Second-in-Command of the Decepticons. Either that or she'd severely overestimated the intelligence of her leader.

As she observed the medic and his patient (admittedly with some amusement when it came to Starscream's numerous flinches and indignant squawks), she found herself studying Starscream's wings more than anything else. She was enthralled with the way they kept flicking around; how they practically mirrored his every emotion perfectly and gracefully. She was more than enthralled, actually: she was somewhat envious. How she would love to be a Seeker... there was something about flying that simply fascinated her.

"Can I go now?" Starscream demanded as soon as Ratchet finished, shifting uncomfortably and glancing behind him at the medic.

"I doubt that," Ratchet snorted, casually walking away from Starscream to replace his wrench in its proper place. "Do you know how much Energon you lost? I want to keep you in here for another night at least."

Starscream scowled at that, tossing Ratchet a dirty look as if it were his fault, but ultimately decided the possible wrench-to-the-head probably wasn't worth it and rolled over onto his other side instead. Phoenix tilted her head to the side curiously, absently wondering if he was eager to return to his own faction, and decided she couldn't blame him. Sure, he was a Decepticon, and she probably shouldn't be sympathizing for him, but if she were in his position she'd probably feel the same. The less time she spent in the confines of a possibly hostile enemy environment the better.

Without another word, Ratchet made to leave the Med. Bay, only hesitating at the door to spare a glance back at Phoenix.

"Optimus wants to talk to you tomorrow."

Phoenix couldn't help but cringe. She should've known this was coming... 'The Talk.' Really, it should've been called 'The Never-Ending Lecture from Pit' because it summed it up a lot better. A weeks supply of her Energon rations said that Prowl would be there too just to make it that much more agonizing, and to emphasize how wrong she'd been to do the things she did, consequences she could face, etc. etc. etc.

"Alright," she grumbled, rubbing her forehead tiredly.

She waited for the sound of Ratchet's office door closing and his retreating footsteps before she leapt to her pedes and stalked towards Starscream, looking a touch miffed.

"'Saved' me, did you?"

Starscream glanced at her over his wing, an optic ridge quirked and wearing an expression that clearly stated he'd been prepared for this. In fact, he'd been counting on it, even. The sooner he cleared this up, the sooner he could get the black mark off his name and go on with his life normally... or as normally as possible, anyway. The only obstacle in his path to get to this normal lifestyle, however, appeared to be the femme standing before him with her hands on her hips and a scowl firmly etched into her features. It actually seemed a little ridiculous that such a small femme would be the one to make or break the great and mighty Starscream. Insulting, even.

"Look, femme, let's get one thing straight-"

_"Phoenix," _she corrected him firmly, fixing him with the most unfriendly look she could manage.

"...What?"

"My name is Phoenix."

A pause followed, in which Starscream eyed her as if she'd gone mad. Had she really just interrupted the glorious Starscream?

"Alright... _Phoenix._" He ground out the name as if it was particularly hard to get his glossa around, fixing her with a hard look as he said it. "Let's get one thing straight, I did what I had to do to survive-"

"Oh. Right. Sorry. I didn't realise I was _such _a threat to your well being," she commented, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Again! She did it _again! _Starscream was positively seething by now, red optics narrowing to give her a deadly glare. She flinched under his furious gaze, before quickly realising her mistake and attempting to school her face into a more controlled expression. She couldn't let the Decepticon get any sort of leverage over her- Primus knew how easily they could take advantage of even the littlest things. Or so she'd been told.

"Will you let me finish?" he snapped impatiently.

Phoenix quickly nodded her head, unable to help the flash of panic across her faceplates. Starscream, she knew, could easily overpower her... most likely kill her in the blink of an optic before anyone could hear her scream. She self-consciously backed up a few steps so that she could have a bit more room to react, though she doubted it would make much more of a difference. Seekers were renowned for their speed and agility, not to mention their grace and beauty. Not that... you know... Starscream was pretty or anything. Well, he wasn't unattractive, but... oh, Phoenix wasn't going to justify her own thoughts! _You know what you mean! _she told herself, mentally slapping herself as she did.

_"Anyway, _the only reason for my actions was so that Prime would trust that my intentions for joining the Autobots were perfectly just and sincere."

"Your intentions for _what?" _exclaimed Phoenix, giving him an incredulous look, optics almost bulging out of her head.

Starscream exhaled slowly, gritting his denta together and forcing out:

"Joining the Autobots."

It almost sounded like the words pained him, and not even he could keep the grimace off his faceplate as he said them. It was the single most self-degrading, ego-wounding thing he'd ever had to say out loud. Even worse than the constant begging-for-mercy routine he'd established with Megatron, even when the bucket head's failures hadn't been Starscream's fault. An earth day ago, the very thought of joining the Autobots would've made him laugh, but now...

_"Why?" _Phoenix asked, staring at him with open confusement and disbelief.

Starscream? _Starscream?_ The infamous Second-in-Command and Air Commander of the even more infamous and piggish Decepticons? Why on Earth would he even _consider_ joining the Autobots? Or, more importantly, why would the Autobots ever have accepted him? He had killed so many: Autobots, Neutrals and (if the rumors were true) even _Decepticons_ alike! What had driven him to join the Autobots all of a sudden? He would've had to give up his high ranking, power, even his _trine. _Phoenix thought trines were supposed to mean the _world_ to Seekers.

"That's none of your business, Autobot," he snarled, pointedly looking away.

Said Autobot just continued staring, finding it difficult to come to terms with the whole thing. He almost sounded... hurt? Uncomfortable? Sensitive? Whatever his reasons for joining the Autobots, it was obvious he had no interest in discussing them. Was it really that bad that he didn't want to tell anyone? Or was he just trying to make himself feel more superior by not telling her? Regardless, it just seemed so... strange. Unusual, even. What could drive a mech to such great lengths?

"So... let me get this straight. You wanted to join the Autobots for whatever reason, found me wandering all around in the desert alone, and then decided to knock me out and feed the Autobots some sort of story about finding me unconscious in the desert so that you would seem like some sort of hero?"

"That pretty much sums it up. You Autobots are into that kind of thing, aren't you? All good and noble?"

Phoenix shook her head in exasperation, unable to believe what she was hearing. Well... it seemed like something a Decepticon would do. Thinking that playing the hero would suddenly hold them in a good light when it came to the Autobots. Sheesh, and they thought the Autobots were ignorant.

"Um... I guess," she responded. "So... did it work?"

Starscream shrugged, eyeing her somewhat suspiciously, "I don't know yet. They're deciding my fate tomorrow."

Oh. Right.

"Why did you have to knock _me _out?" Phoenix demanded after a small silence, her face quickly transforming into a scowl and giving him her own type of dirty look.

He had ruined her one chance at proving herself to the Autobots! Now they all thought she'd had some sort of fritz out in the middle of the desert from a glitch that hadn't affected her in _ages_, and she'd probably never be able to get out onto the battlefield now. The realisation alone almost made her want to slap the Seeker for what he'd done to her... though she supposed she could've saved herself the embarrassment if she followed orders and had just remained in the base.

"There was no one else in the area!" Starscream objected, rolling his optics as if he was talking to a sparkling.

...Well, there was actually no arguing with that. There actually had been no one else around- everyone have been out battling the 'Cons. Her scowl deepened as she found Starscream's logic getting the better of her once again, and she averted her gaze to the wall so that she didn't have to look at his smugly arrogant expression. It would only infuriate her more, she knew, and that wasn't something she could risk: she may not have inherited her father's skills in battle, but neither of them were known for their patience. They were, however, known for a formidably short temper. _Count to three, _she reminded herself softly, closing her optics.

There was a momentary lull in the conversation, Starscream studying the femme curiously as she took in long, deep breaths. When she finally opened her blue optics again, Starscream's own annoyance and frustration with her had withered and died, along with his interest in the conversation. The Autobot medic was right- his Energon levels were low, and his temper had taken a lot out of him. All he wanted to do now was fall into a blissful recharge where there were no Autobots, no Megatron, and no fragging aching limbs.

"So you want me to lie to anyone who asks, and say I passed out?"

"That would be helpful," Starscream mumbled, a sarcastic edge to his tone as he settled down on his back, the light from his optics beginning to flicker and die.

"...How do I know your not a spy?"

Starscream gave an exasperated sigh, optics onlining again to shoot her a mildly annoyed look.

"If the Decepticons needed a spy, why on Earth would they send their Second-in-Command?"

_True,_ Phoenix admitted to herself, pondering the question. There were more expendable Decepticons on the _Nemesis_ than having them so recklessly cart their Second-in-Command away. Besides, his function wasn't a spy _or_ an assassin. Sending him in for such a job would be highly illogical. It just wasn't something they would do. Starscream was just beginning to fall into that blissful recharge he had been looking forward to when Phoenix spoke again, snapping him out of his trance-like state.

"But you owe me."

"Oh?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Yep."

"And what do I 'owe' you, femm- Phoenix?"

She leant forward, her optics wide and eager, like a sparkling about to divulge a particularly juicy piece of gossip. Her spark sped up in anticipation, licking her lips as if she were savoring the moment. Really, she was just summoning up the courage to get her next words out. Part of her, a very small part mind you, was warning her that it was a bad idea: that it was a dumb and foolish and naive. But a much louder part was screaming at her to snatch the opportunity, warning her that this might be her only chance. Ever.

"I want you to train me."

* * *

**Again, I would like to thank my reviewers. You're all amazing, inspiring and incredibly supportive. I apologise if this chapter didn't come out fast enough- I have been caught up with multiple activities such as homework, tests and sports. Also, _merci beaucoup_ to those who favourited/alerted this story/me. It was equally appreciated. If there were any grammar or spelling mistakes, please inform me.**

**Slightly off-top - To any who know anything about criminology: could you please send me a message with information on it? I've been fascinated with the idea of being a criminologist for some time.**

**Thanks to-  
_Forever Dreaming Grace, Mistress Megatron, 9aza _and_ ElizaAcheron _for reviewing the second chapter.**


	4. Haunting Revelations

**Forever Dreaming Grace: My apologies that I haven't found the time to respond to your review. In answer to your question, Phoenix's father's name was not mentioned, and probably will not be until further on in the fanfiction.**

* * *

"Flex your digits."

Phoenix did as she was instructed, her digits giving an enthusiastic wiggle. Ratchet monitored her movement closely, tapping something down on his datapad before moving on to another part of her anatomy where he began to prod at wires and seams. The femme merely vented an impatient sigh, but put up with the uncomfortable feeling nonetheless.

The previous night had been uneventful a best. Starscream had slept through most of it (that she knew of), leaving her to ponder her own fears and worries in peace. At the top of her list was the lecture Optimus Prime was most likely going to deliver her that day. What consequences would she have to face? Would she ever be allowed onto the battlefield? Sure, it wasn't the first time she'd disobeyed orders, but the other times... the other times she hadn't put herself in so much danger. She knew it. The Autobots knew it. Most of all, Optimus Prime knew it.

Secondly was the Seeker lying across from her. Starscream's reputation proceeded him, and she knew very well that he was a bit of a slimeball. Deals with him were always broken, and he was the one who always just _happened_ to gain more from the broken deal than the other. Why would a Second-in-Command join the Autobots? It was a question she'd mulled over for most of the night, but no logical conclusions could be drawn up. Eventually, she'd simply given up. _All will be revealed in due course._

As a result of all her worrying, the small Autobot had been blessed with very little recharge. She supposed she could slip in a few more Earth hours before Optimus summoned her that afternoon, but even that was only if Dragonia and her mate weren't hanging around. Primus knew Phoenix would never sleep with Dragonia nearby.

"Stand up," Ratchet instructed, ripping her away from her thoughts.

She unsteadily did so, time slowly ticking away as the femme continued to obey the basic instructions of Ratchet: walk to the other side of the room; balance on one pede; close your optics and walk forward... All the while, she set up a repetitive pattern of being lost in thought before being so rudely snapped out of it again by Ratchet. There was also the occasional glance in the direction of the brightly coloured Seeker, whose red optics felt like they were burning holes in Phoenix's back. Part of her wished he were still recharging; there was something about his intense gaze that just made her positively squirm.

"Alright," Ratchet finally conceded, waving Phoenix away with his hand, "You're fine. Though I suggest you get some recharge."

He cast a glance in the direction of Starscream at that, as if he suspected he was the reason for Phoenix not being able to get the appropriate amount of rest. That was somewhat true. Regardless, she opened her mouth to protest, only to close it again when nothing sensible came to mind. Instead, she dipped her head to Ratchet, cast a glance in the direction of Starscream, and quickly exited the Med. Bay as fast as her legs could carry her. Anything to get away from those scrutinizing optics.

She wasted no time in making a quick escape for her quarters, fast-walking through the twisting walls of the _Ark_. With luck she wouldn't meet anyone of importance on the way, such as Prowl or Jazz or... dare she think it... Optimus Prime himself. In fact, she would prefer it if she didn't stumble across any of them at all. The occasional random Autobot was alright, but somebody who knew who more personally...

She ought to have known "Phoenix" and "luck" really didn't fit in the same sentence. Because, stepping out from around the next corner, appeared the flashy purple and pink femme- Phoenix's friend, Dragonia. Her faceplate literally lit up in a big grin upon spotting Phoenix, and the smaller femme found herself tossing up between putting up with her and making a run for it. Not wanting to be rude, she chose the former, praying to Primus that it would be quick.

"Phoenix! You didn't tell me you were getting out today!" she purred, sounding utterly delighted as she approached said femme.

Phoenix managed a half-smile, not having the energy to pull off anything more. Dragonia would understand. There was a reason she was Phoenix's best friend. Dragonia stopped before her, hands on her hips, head titled down as she gazed upon Phoenix with that adorable grin on her faceplate. In many ways, Phoenix envied her friend. She was the one with the brains, the experience, the charm, the _skills._ Most of all, she had a spot on the battlefield. The other Autobot femme had everything Phoenix could only dream about. Would probably only _ever _dream about after Optimus was done with her.

"I only just left," Phoenix replied, rubbing her brow tiredly.

Primus. The conversation had her exhausted already.

Dragonia didn't fail to notice, and her grin faded into a sympathetic smile. She reached for Phoenix, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder, saying,

"Aw, you poor thing. You must be exhausted! Why don't you go get some rest?"

Phoenix had been about to reply that that was what she _had_ just been about to do, but once again decided against speaking, reasoning that it would get her nowhere. Instead, she just nodded her head, continuing what felt like a painfully long walk to her quarters. Dragonia followed along beside her, babbling on about nothing in particular and generally just filling the air with empty noise. _She's good at that, _Phoenix noted, smiling to herself in amusement.

The femmes skirted the main pathway down the hall, agreeing that they were more likely to get held up that way by curious Autobots, and plodded down a few more deserted corridors. Dragonia proceeded with her meaningless rambling, and Phoenix proceeded with pretending to listen to most of it. They took a last right turn, and there were simply no words to describe how relieved she was as her quarters finally came into sight, clearly labeled by the number _1984 _in big, black, bold letters. They stopped outside the mechanical doors, Phoenix typing in the access code and the doors responding with a welcoming hiss as they slid aside.

"I suppose I should let you go," Dragonia sighed, her smile warm and genuine. "You'll need a clear head for this afternoon's trial."

_Trial?_ Phoenix's optics widened in surprise. That was what she was up for? A _trial?_ But- she- they- surely her offence hadn't been that bad that it was worthy of a _trial...!_

If Dragonia noticed her friend's shock, she didn't show it, and departed with a casual wave.

"See ya later! And good luck."

Phoenix didn't reply, stumbling into her quarters, feeling numb. The doors closed behind her with another hiss, this one not sounding as friendly as before, and she staggered over to her berth, carefully lying herself down on it as if her life could shatter at the first sudden movement. Was Dragonia being serious? She hadn't thought that the charges against her could be so severe. Looking back, though, the evidence was all there. She'd disobeyed orders, potentially endangered the Autobots by "handing" herself over to the Decepticons... Pit, she'd even shot her way through the _Ark's_ control room doors. _Vandal,_a small voice in the back of her processor hissed.

She resultingly crushed the small voice, scowling. No, she couldn't be thinking about these things. Not now. Dragonia had said it herself- she needed to recharge. Maybe things would make more sense after that.

She forced her optics closed, but even then she couldn't escape the reality she was facing. Her processor kept replaying scenes; horrifying scenes that involved her being exiled from the battlefield (or even worse, stripped of her Autobot title), crushing any hopes of her ever doing her part for the Autobot cause. Would anyone stand up for her, she wondered? But... who was she kidding? She should've known better. Autobots didn't behave the way she did...

Not wanting to dwell on such thoughts, she manually shut her processor down, and fell into the dark abyss of recharge.

* * *

Dreams are successions of images, ideas, emotions and sensations occurring involuntarily in the mind during certain stages of sleep.

Dreams were such odd things, Phoenix thought. Some dreamt about their crushes, things they loved, things they hated. Others dreamt about deserts and canyons and things that made absolutely no sense at all. Her dreams were obsessivly random, and definitely fell into the latter category. This dream, however, was tilting more towards the former. That human- Carly, her name was- had once asked if Phoenix dreamed in her own language or in English. The femme hadn't thought about it at the time, but she had confirmed that it was generally a mix of the two. She spoke both lanuages far too often for them not to have a hold on her subconscious.

This dream involved a certain Seeker.

Phoenix found herself back in the canyon where she'd first 'bumped' into Starscream. She was following that same Energon trail, but there were multiple ones this time, crissrossing over one another and making it hard to follow one trail without getting it confused with another one. And they didn't look like they all belonged to simply one Transformer, either.

A cold and daunting feeling was beginning to settle on the femme; the sort of feeling that made you realise something very bad was about to occur. It grew worse as she continued further into the canyon, the sun beginning to sink and casting long, intimidating shadows over the ground. She risked a glance up at the walls stretching high above her, almost immediately wishing she hadn't. Fresh energon was trickling down the sides in steady streams, pooling on the ground in small puddles and staining the earth in it's sickly blue-black colour. Phoenix quickly glanced away, biting her lip and trying to focus on the ground in front of her instead.

The Autobot rounded a corner, and her pede landed in something warm and sticky with a loud _splat. _She gasped, stumbling backwards, but there was no escaping the spreading puddle of energon as it slowly enveloped the ground around it. There was maniacal laughter from somewhere above her, and she looked up to see the Decepticons, standing over the shells of fallen Transformers with triumphant grins plastered over their faceplates. She couldn't help it. She leant forward, curious, her body feeling like it no longer belonged to her, refusing to do the logical thing and make a run for it. She couldn't help it; the faces just looked so familiar...

Her spark stalled. Her systems ceased. Numbly, she tried to stumble backwards, but her back clanged against someone who had been standing behind her. She spun around, letting out a terrified shriek as she recognized her would-be assailant, desperately trying to scramble away. It was no use. Her body no longer listened to her, no longer obeyed her orders. She could only watch as a sky blue hand reached for her, and over the mech's shoulder she saw another recognizable face. He was gunmetal grey, with bright red optics and ebony black hands. His scorching optics were trained upon her, faceplate twisted into a sick grin, and in his hands... in his hands was the head of Optimus Prime.

* * *

Voices. There were voices above her, calling her name softly at first, and steadily growing in volume. _'Phoenix. Phoenix. Phoenix-_

"PHOENIX!"

The femme woke up with a startled jolt, lurching up into a sitting position. There was cursing as her head slammed against someone else's, and as her optics began to refocus she could make out the black and gold form of Dragonia's mate, Cyclone, cradling his helm where she'd accidentally head butted him. She stumbled out something that vaguely sounded like 'Sorry,' before Dragonia stole her attention again.

"What are you doing? You're supposed to be at the trial in 3 minutes!"

_What?_

It took Phoenix a moment or two to catch up with the present. Of course! The trial! How could she have slept through-? She quickly clambered out of her berth, dusting herself off and glancing around the room wildly for something to check her appearance with. Dragonia had already grabbed her wrist, however, and was dragging Phoenix out of her quarters before she could get a chance. Cyclone was bringing up the rear, his expression carefully neutral but at the same time kindly.

Dragonia was anything but neutral. In fact, she was the exact _opposite._ She still hadn't relinquished her tight hold on Phoenix's wrist, and her longer legs were eating up the distance a lot faster than Phoenix's shorter ones could manage. She was ranting on about Phoenix needing to be more responsible and how she was lucky she had Dragonia as a friend, her faceplate coloured with passion as she spoke. Cyclone cast Phoenix a sympathetically amused glance as his mate went on, Phoenix playfully rolling her optics in reply, making herself seem a lot calmer than she actually was. It was happening. This was it. Her trial-

"How are you supposed to be a witness for a trial if you can't even set your internal alarm for the right time? Honestly, child!"

Wait... what? A witness? But... offenders weren't addressed as 'witnesses.' Phoenix decided to ignore the part about her being a "child," instead asking:

"What do you mean 'witness'? I thought it was..."

"Just what I said! You're a witness! Why? You didn't actually think it was _your _trial, did you? Sheesh, Phoenix! Optimus isn't that cruel!"

But... that meant...

"If it isn't mine, then... whose is it?"

Dragonia shook her head in exasperation, rolling her optics as if she were dealing with a naive sparkling. Phoenix ignored her friend's behaviour, and instead averted her gaze upward to find herself standing outside the large and intimidating doors of the Council Room. Faintly, she could hear the sound of incoherent chatter inside. How many Autobots were _in_ there? Dragonia keyed the doors to open, dragging Phoenix in with her, saying as she did so:

"Why it's _Starscream's,_ of course!"

* * *

**A lot shorter than my other two, but the next one should be longer... hopefully. I apologise for any errors or just genuinely bad writing. This was written at 1am, and I'm not always at my best when writing when I'm tired. I just haven't found much time to work on this at any other time. ****On a brighter note, I should be writing the other chapters at a more reasonable hour from now on. Alleluia! (I probably spelt that wrong too.)**

**Again, thank you to my beloved reviewers! There really is no greater feeling than reading over the feedback people have on one's fanfiction. You're all incredibly supportive and inspiring: _Forever Dreaming Grace, Mistress Megatron, Random fan (). _Thanks heaps for reviewing the last chapter.**


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